For those interested, I’ve moved my blog to a new website. The URL is http://www.learningcontinues.com. It is the website of my professional and personal development endeavors and is unifying my web presence. The mission of “taking root downward, bearing fruit upward” is still the driving force at Learning Continues.
Thank you for following me, and I hope you’ll follow me over there as well.
by The Organization Man
I’ve been on a crusa
de to reduce the amount of physical clutter in my life. Like most people, I’ve managed to collect quite a bit of stuff over the years. Couple that with a major career change some five years ago, and I’ve found myself to have saved many things that I no longer use or need.
Six years ago, I was a teacher. As such, I collected quite a bit of tools, books, and supplies befitting my trade. Then, I was no longer a teacher. After all this time, I’m probably not going back to it. So much of my Perfectly Good Stuff (TM) is sitting here taking up space and benefitting no one.
As I’ve gone through this process, I’ve managed to compile some thoughts and observations that you might find enlightening.
There’s a difference between clutter and organization.
You would not find my basement storage area on a typical episode of “American Pickers;” it’s too neat. My stuff is neatly stored in plastic bins and boxes, neatly tucked away on metal shelving of just the right spacing and height. So it’s organized.
But that doesn’t mean it’s not clutter. Clutter could be defined as any resource that you no longer use and is a drain on other resources. It takes up space. It might represent potential value if you sold it, which would allow you to access other resources if you choose to. If you have to do anything to maintain your clutter, it takes up time.
My organization was a smokescreen to my real problem. I was hoarding. And there’s a good reason for that.
Getting rid of Perfectly Good Stuff (TM) is psychologically hard.
I’ve taken the Strengthsfinder 2.0 assessment. One of my top 5 strengths is “Input.” This makes me a collector…of ideas, facts, quotations, and even physical objects. All of which I tend to view as having value. So keeping all these possessions quite simply arose from this very real strength in my psyche that sees all things, whether material or immaterial, as potentially useful.
I found myself viscerally torn as I began to choose to part with various pieces of Perfectly Good Stuff (TM). “I could use this!” I found myself saying. I recalled other times when I’d tossed something, only to find that I needed it later. Didn’t want that to happen again.
I had to change my way of thinking. Perfectly Good Stuff (TM) became simply…stuff.
Perhaps the fact that I tended to think of Perfectly Good Stuff (TM) in a “trademark” sort of way led me into this hoarding, protectionist mode. I had to change my way of thinking. Perfectly Good Stuff (TM) became simply…stuff. Stuff I no longer used or needed. A friend said it well: it’s not worth the time or energy to keep it.
As I began to part with my stuff, I found…
It becomes self-rewarding to de-clutter. And easier.
The more I chose to part with clutter, the easier it became. And I began to see the rewards for doing so. Every additional bin that was emptied, every load taken to the dump or to Goodwill, every piece given and received joyfully by someone else who could use it, every “one-man’s-junk-is-another-man’s-treasure” item sold on eBay…each of those occurrences was a feel-good pat on the back for someone who previously felt very conflicted to part with his possessions.
And so, it became easier. Items that were earlier off-limits were now on the chopping block. “What else?” has become the battle cry. “Please stop giving us stuff!” has become the plea o
f my extended family. Where once there was a certain anxiety, there is now peace and joy.
And to the person who bought a 12-year old empty Xbox 360 box from me for $25 (that’s right, just an empty carton!), my bank account thanks you.
R.C. Sproul, theologian, pastor, and founder of Ligonier Ministries, died on December 14, 2017, at the age of 78.
The autumn of 1977 was pivotal in my life and development. After 3 years at a Bible college, I had just transferred to Ashland University, a church-related but largely secular liberal arts college. I’d made that decision for a number of reasons, not the least of which was that I was undertaking an existential search for the reality of the claims of Christianity.
If it seems ironic that a young man, a believer in Christ since his youth, would leave the comfortable confines of a conservative Bible education to seek for certainty in his faith in secular pastures, then so be it. In God’s sovereign plan to lead me to that intellectual assurance, he took me on the scenic route.
I was a pretty typical, good Christian boy — grown up in the church, active in my youth group during my teenage years, planning on seminary after college. But by the end of my junior year at the Bible college, I was beginning to wonder if the truths I was so sure of could hold water when rubbed up against modern, secular thought. I hadn’t reached to the level of skepticism, but if I didn’t see for myself that Christian ideas held together when contrasted with other world views, then my uncertainty would only continue to grow.
So, I transferred. I took a minor in Philosophy only because a major wasn’t offered. I took religion as my major because all my credits from Bible college transferred. And I got what I’d hoped for — my thoughts and comments in class contrasted with hardened, non-believing hedonists and with High-Church, religious liberal neo-orthodoxy. And just like a muscle straining against the weight that will build it up, my intellectual senses began to sharpen.
Also ironically, I found that the most robust defense of historic Christianity came not from my professors in the Department of Religion but from the sole professor of the Philosophy Department, Dr. Bruce Stark. My first class with him was Philosophy of Religion, and his very first assignment introduced me to a theologian I’d not heard of before, Dr. R.C. Sproul.
We were assigned to listen to a tape of a lecture titled, “The Psychology of Atheism.” The fact that I can still recount the key points of this lecture without consulting my notes or his book of the same title speaks to the immense impact it had on me.
Sproul talked about how thinkers like Freud posited that God was an invention of man, and that religion was created as a coping mechanism to allay our fears, an opiate for the masses as it were. Freud was answering the question, “Since there is no God, why is there religion?”
Sproul asked one simple question, and that question rocked my world — “If there is a God, why are there atheists?” He went on to explain, especially drawing from Romans 1, that the reason there are atheists is not that God hasn’t shown Himself enough, but that men “suppress the truth in unrighteousness,” basically that because of our sin, people don’t want God. If humanity were to invent a god, it would certainly not be the God of the Bible, who is utterly holy and righteously judges sin.
“Death reminds us that we are creatures. Yet as fearsome as death is, it is nothing compared with meeting a holy God. When we encounter him, the totality of our creatureliness breaks upon us and shatters the myth that we have believed about ourselves, the myth that we are demigods, junior-grade deities who will try to live forever.”
R.C. Sproul provided me with the certainty and clarity I craved. That was my first exposure to “R.C.” but it was not my last. To this day, I still remember exactly where I was driving as I was listening to his series on the 5 Points of Calvinism when I “got it” on the doctrine of particular redemption (not that I fully comprehended this, but when I finally understood and embraced the doctrine). His book/video series, “The Holiness of God” is a must for any serious Christian. I’ve led small group discussions using his series “Objections Answered.” The sheer volume of resources he left behind is beyond imagination.
After hearing “The Psychology of Atheism,” I wrote a song based on those concepts. It was called “You Know Full Well.” Somewhere I have the lyrics. I always wanted to make a recording and send to R.C. to tell him how much that lecture meant to me. But you know how it is…life happens and I just never got around to it. Someday, I’ll get a chance to thank R.C. for what he did for me, as will countless other believers in glory.
For tonight, I’ll be thanking the Lord of the Harvest that He raised up his tireless worker in the faith, R.C. Sproul.
40 of the best quotes from R.C. Sproul
It began in late April 1998. It ended 8 years, 7 months and 28 days later, on Christmas Eve 2006.
It is John Piper’s sermon series on Romans, presented to his church during Sunday services. 225 messages.
Romans is probably my favorite book in the Bible, and I have been listening off and on to this remarkable series, especially his treatment of chapters 5-9. I have repeatedly been amazed at Piper’s willingness to tackle tough theological issues and go deep into the text, sometimes spending three or four weeks on a particular passage.
But there’s something even more amazing.
His church let him do it.
A generation accustomed to the shallow end
“For the time is coming when people will not endure sound teaching, but having itching ears they will accumulate for themselves teachers to suit their own passions, and will turn away from listening to the truth and wander off into myths.” –2 Timothy 4:3-4
It’s been well documented that “content” has been in decline all across the spectrum of our culture. As E.D. Hirsch, Jr. has pointed out in his book The Knowledge Deficit, “Disparagement of factual knowledge as found in books has been a strong current in American thought since the time of Emerson.” (p.9)
Unfortunately, this “disparagement of factual knowledge” is not exclusive to the mainstream; it has also infected the church. The modern church by and large has become a purveyor of practical principles and applications with a few Bible verses tacked on (from whichever translation or paraphrase says it just the right way) to give them credence. Some pastors have come to embrace the cultural disdain for content by discarding even the attempt to teach doctrine from the pulpit.
Thus, my amazement that Piper’s church stuck around for over 8½ years of deep, theological teaching from Romans. Many an elder board would have asked him to “tone it down,” or worse, asked him to leave and then counseled the next pastor to “keep it simple” or “be more practical.” To be fair, Piper himself addresses this from time to time by intentionally bringing his current text to bear on the practical implications for the Christian life, or by frequently tying it to how it fits with the great “Therefore” of Romans 12. But he never shies from the hard truths of his text, even when there’s not an immediate “application.”
As a result, what we have in this archive of sermons is a true gift to the Church at large. Whether you agree or disagree with Piper’s theology is beside the point. What he created there was not only a blessing for his congregation, but also a platform of influence to Christians everywhere.
May more pastors have the desire and the courage to go deep and take their flock with them. And may many more congregations demand it.
[In subsequent parts of this series, I’ll examine the common approaches churches take on this matter, and how God uses his Word in our lives. Stay tuned.]
Poetry by Mark Knox
My Sin, My Sin – O Savior!
My sin, my sin – O Savior!
Is not a trifling thing;
My sin is vile rebellion
Against my rightful King.
The holy God is justified
To banish me from him
And wrath is stored against me
For all my wretched sin.
My sin, my sin – O Savior!
Caused not my God to hold
His love forever from me,
His mercies to withhold.
He sent his Son, now emptied
Of glory, as a child,
And raised him up to seek and save
One such as I, defiled.
My sin, my sin – O Savior!
Sent Jesus to the cross.
Submitted to the bitter cup;
Sustained the crushing loss,
Until, the Father satisfied,
He cried out, “It is done!”
And with his final dying breath
Declared salvation won.
My faith, my faith – O Savior!
This cross I now embrace.
Enabled by the Spirit,
I’m saved by sovereign grace.
He overcame my waywardness,
Subdued my heart so wild,
And drew this former enemy
Who now is reconciled.
What words, what words – O Savior!
Could I justly bring
To aptly praise my Jesus,
Adore my glorious King?
Rejoice in God through Jesus Christ
Through sufferings untold;
With certain love he’ll carry me
Safely into the fold.
Doctrine divides. Sound doctrine divides us from error and from those who espouse it. False doctrine divides us from God. I’d rather divide from false teachers than from God.
<thanks to RC Sproul for the core idea for this post>
by Mark Knox, Director of Guest Experiences, Chick-fil-A, Hendersonville
There’s a reason that “puttin’ on the Ritz” is a saying. Dating back to the 1920s, this saying – and the Irving Berlin song of the same name – draws its inspiration from the Ritz Hotel. The Ritz has become synonymous with high living, fashion, and hospitality.
I had the opportunity to spend a night and the better part of a day at the Ritz-Carlton in Charlotte, North Carolina. Part of my purpose as a Director of Guest Experiences was to observe their operation for signs of great customer service. They were not hard to find throughout my visit. My wife, who regularly and often stays in hotels as part of her job, was along, and I was interested in getting her perspective as well.
What follows are some of my observations.
Focus
From beginning to end, every encounter with every Ritz employee was focused on me as the guest. Burned into my mind is the image I saw as I drove up to the door…four valets, facing forward, ready to spring into action. Prior to my pulling up, they were idle and waiting, but not clumped together carrying on their own conversation. Their appearance was one of welcoming and readiness, in short, focus.
Every employee of the Ritz shared this trait. As my valet who wheeled my bags to the room waited for me to check in, he kept his attention on me. He drew me into conversation, asked if we were there for “the concert” (Neil Diamond that night; yes, we were), discovered where we were from. Again, while he was waiting on me, he did not divert his attention elsewhere.
I also noticed this in the restaurant. As we were dining, the sommelier came to table next to us to pour wine. At one point, he took a step back to allow their server to remove some plates. I thought he might turn to greet us, but instead he kept his focus on his guests at hand, ready to pour the wine when ready. His attention did not divert.
My wife and I normally stay at decent, clean mid-line hotels. While I generally have no complaints about the level of service we receive – and sometimes it can be exceptional – it rarely rises to the level of focus that we saw at the Ritz. For example, it’s not uncommon to walk into one of these mid-line hotels and not see anyone at the front desk; they are in the back office. Oh sure, they come out promptly and are friendly, but it’s not the Ritz.
Courtesy
During our entire visit, not once did any employee cross in front of me. This was so pervasive that it became impossible not to notice. If I was walking through the restaurant, every server who was moving about in my area would stop to let me pass. The same was true for every valet, housekeeper, and spa employee I encountered.
I often think about how I sometimes bounce around my restaurant, rushing here and there on various important matters. Do I sometimes cut in front of a guest? I’m sure I do. I need to look at this.
It was always, “Mr. Knox” and “Mrs. Knox.” There was never the familiarity that has somehow crept into modern 21st Century customer service. I’ve never been a fan of the “Hey, how are you guys?” model when my wife and I are being served. Our experience at the Ritz was friendly and conversational (“How do you like this Jeep you drove, sir?”), but never presumed to be overly familiar.
While we were at the Spa getting massages, an alarm sounded in the area where my wife was being attended. The therapist placed a towel over her head and ears to shield her from the sound while she looked into what the alarm was. Having discovered it was not anything that required action, she then asked my wife if it would be permitted to go back to working on the massage. Simple courtesy.
Over the Top
The Ritz is known for its opulence and “beyond the basics” care. It is, after all, just a hotel, a place to sleep. But it is so much more.
We were offered champagne upon arrival in the lobby. There’s a TV screen within the bathroom mirror. After returning from dinner, we found our robes and towels had been replaced and the bed turned down with the next day’s forecast on the pillow.
In my business, we look for ways to “Connect, Discover, and Respond” to our guests. At the Ritz, when they’d connected with us and discovered that we were going to the Neil Diamond concert, they responded by presenting us with cupcakes after our massages with the message “Enjoy Sweet Caroline” written on the plate in frosting. Truly, good times never seemed so good.
While in my work context, we are not the Ritz, it makes me wonder, are there things we could be doing to go “over the top” for our guests? Things that would create such an experience that they can’t wait to come back? I’m sure there are. We just need to discover them.
Why would you stick with outmoded tactics when the technology had advanced and called for a new plan?
by Mark Knox
Antietam is one of the best-preserved battlefields of the American Civil War, and as I walked its pastoral settings, I thought on the wisdom of the massed charge, which had been the standard battle tactic for some time – line up a regiment of your men and march them toward the enemy en masse. This worked for a time when muskets had a short range and were highly inaccurate. But by the mid-1800s, the rifled shot had made gunfire much more accurate and deadly. Yet the generals continued to use the outmoded tactic of throwing wave after wave of men at the entrenched positions of the enemy, often to catastrophic loss of life.
You see this at Antietam at the Sunken Road (pictured), which became known as Bloody Lane because of all the devastation there. This tactic was also used futilely to horrible loss at Fredericksburg and Gettysburg. After Gettysburg, generals were less likely to order the massed charge, and tactics began to change, but far too late for the many men who died to their allegiance to tradition.
This causes the effective leader to ask when it’s right to move on and move forward from outmoded techniques of leadership. The inability to leave the past behind cost dearly in the battlefield and costs greatly every day in the marketplace. A great leader ought to be striving for continuous improvement and should challenge the process at every step. What could make this better? It’s not just, if I were in charge, what would I do differently? It’s also, since I am in charge, what should I do differently?
Don’t be afraid of innovation and change…not simply change for change’s sake. Effective innovation wins battles and limits casualties along the way.
by Mark Knox
God is not the greatest high to get you through the night; He’s not the means for you to reach your potential; He’s not a cosmic boyfriend/girlfriend…He’s the Almighty and Sovereign God. King of kings and Lord of lords. And it’s time our worship songs start taking that seriously.
by Mark Knox
You cannot love Christ enough, you cannot believe in him enough, you cannot bend your will strong enough, and you cannot keep your heart pure enough to assure your eternal salvation from this day to the next. “Having begun by the Spirit, are you now being perfected by the flesh?” A thousand times, no! The only reason I trust in God today, and will trust in him tomorrow followed by an eternity of tomorrows, is that God in his grace and by his eternal purpose and for his glory has set his heart on me. Having believed in him as a gift of grace, how do I know I will believe in him tomorrow? Because He. Holds. Me.
Taking root downward, bearing fruit upward 